


Lift Me Down

by crowroad



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlives, Brother Feels, Brotherly Love, Episode: s11e01 Out of the Darkness Into the Fire, Injured Sam Winchester, Road Trips, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5242451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowroad/pseuds/crowroad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is this the place," Sam says, shifts in shotgun.</p><p>He's nervous, Dean knows, sure as the pollen and the promise.</p><p> Sam & Dean and the Empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lift Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughableLament](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/gifts).



 

"Is this the place," Sam says, shifts in shotgun.

He's nervous, Dean knows, sure as the pollen and the promise.

Dean pops the lid of the cooler, looks fond on the longnecks sun-splitting like tigereye. Snag two, drop the lid. 

"Want me to--"

"I got it," Sam says, levers his trunk from the seat, the frame, tall and swaying on his shy bones.

"Whoa," Dean's arms go out, flush to horizon, but he doesn’t catch, don’t carry as he might have once done, in his best vows. 

Sam puts his weight down wrong, kicks up dust, winces quick at the dryline.

Dean spreads the blanket in the wheat, waits.

It's been some time, could be. If this is Empty, you wouldn't know; it's America, amber and heaven, spacious and wave, weather. A car; a canyon. All here.

"This is the place," Dean says.

Sam goes slow, lips thinning as he stops, stoops, goes down all the way in the summer grain, redwings stripping back into sky. Goes all the way down in the bowl of his brother’s lap, a hollow.

Dean drops his head. Bends it. Kisses his brother on the brow, again.

This is the place, fronts-meet, crosshair, memory, dead-center of the edge, vast; this is the place. Here they're stalk, shoot, leave; germs, whatever comes. Two hurts worth mending, sowing.

Space two-souls-wide for an oak to grow down in; home.

 

 


End file.
